


Smart-ass

by Lopsided_Whiskey_Grin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Hurt Dean, M/M, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 00:16:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7991560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lopsided_Whiskey_Grin/pseuds/Lopsided_Whiskey_Grin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The man, the seal, had been broken only a short time ago, having endured 30 years of torture before giving in. As soon as he had been pulled down from the chains he started running that smart fuckin mouth damn near all the time, talking a big game, trying to contradict everything Alastair told him. But despite that, his tender heart and inexperience is, at times, so excruciatingly obvious to Alastair. Seems like maybe he isn't as broken as Alastair needs him to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smart-ass

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: "Hurt, mouthy bottom Dean. I loved Alastair and the yellow eyed Demon as his opponents. Couldn’t find anything like that. Sadly. Force, non-con I go with all of that."

_ Look at that fuckin smart-ass _ , Alastair thinks to himself, glaring at Dean.  _ How did I get stuck with the job of training this fuckin kid?  _

Dean is across the dungeon from him, laying into a soul he's been going at for hours. Alastair can see the dark pleasure that's hardening his features as he digs the bowie knife in deep and begins dragging it through flesh. 

Screams erupt in the room, echoing beautifully off the stone walls. The sound is like music to Alastair’s ears, curling a sideways smile on his lips and causing a shiver to travel up his spine. But his smile quickly fades when he sees Dean's hand stutter on the knife handle. 

The man, the  _ seal,  _ had been broken only a short time ago, having endured 30 years of torture before giving in. As soon as he had been pulled down from the chains he started running that smart fuckin mouth damn near all the time, talking a big game, trying to contradict everything Alastair told him. But despite that, his tender heart and inexperience is, at times, so excruciatingly obvious to Alastair. Seems like maybe he isn't as broken as Alastair needs him to be.

Moving away from the table holding the tortured soul he himself is working on, Alastair scowls at Dean and walks over to him. “Keep a tighter grip on the handle and twist it to deliver more pain.”

Dean looks up at him, a flash of indignation burning in his eyes. “I got this, A.” he says. “I think I know how to make it as painful as possible for this guy. Why don't you mind your own goddamn business?”

Rage ignites suddenly in Alastair’s stomach, shoving him over the cusp of his control. He whips around the table and grabs Dean by the neck, slamming him back against the wall behind him. “You think you know pain, boyo?” Alastair snarls. “I'll show you fuckin pain.”

Dean bares his teeth, hardly able to whistle in a breath from Alastair’s grip around his throat and Alastair feels a little satisfaction. “I don't know who you think you are, but being pulled off those chains didn't make you  _ King Dick  _ around here,” Alastair turns his head and spits, “just means you were too much of a weak bitch to stay up there any longer.”

He throws Dean down on the ground and Dean lands hard on his hands and knees, wheezing and barking out harsh coughs. “I ain't no  _ bitch!”  _ he shouts hoarsely, struggling to stand. 

Alastair lets out an angry growl and grabs Dean's shirt, hauling him to his feet. He lays a ringing punch against Dean's left cheek. The skin instantly swells and darkens with a bruise, blackening his eye. 

Dean chokes out a weak laugh. “If anyone's a bitch here, it's you, if you call that a punch…”

Alastair doesn't give him the chance to continue. Fury boils his blood and he slams his fist down on Dean again and again while his other fist keeps a tight grip on Dean's shirt-front. Eventually the shirt tears from Alastair’s grasp and Dean slumps down to the ground, his face tight and bruised, blood streaming from both nostrils and the corner of that goddamn smart mouth. 

Alastair turns to leave Dean there on the floor, thinking to himself if Dean has the audacity to run that fuckin mouth after that beating then he really is the dumbest fuck Alastair has  _ ever _ had to train. But as soon as his back is turned he hears Dean cough wetly then say: “Is that all you got, you sonofabitch?”

Alastair is on him in a matter of seconds. “Time for you to learn your place, boyo,” he roars, wrenching Dean from the floor and bending him over the table beside them. 

The torture implements laid out on the blood-splattered surface rattle loudly with the movement and some clank down onto the floor. Alastair slams one hand down between Dean's shoulder blades to keep him in place and uses the other to yank Dean's pants down to his knees. Dean suddenly struggles,realizing exactly where this is going, and Alastair grins. 

“Got nothing to say now, do you?” Alastair rasps. He unbuttons his pants one-handed and pulls his cock out, stroking it to full hardness in a matter of moments. 

“Please don't,” Dean cries out, thrashing against Alastair’s hold. 

Alastair shakes his head, moving his hand up to grasp the back of Dean's neck, smashing his face against the sharp tools on the table. “Shut the fuck up!” Alastair warns.

He lines his cock up against Dean's ass and shoves inside without lubricant of any sort. It's hard to get all the way in with Dean fighting so much but he finally bottoms out. Dean is sobbing beneath him, still trying to get away, a litany of  _ no  _ and  _ stop  _ and  _ don't  _ falling from his impertinent mouth. 

Alastair holds him tighter, pulling out and slamming back in. Dean is tight and dry as fuckin hell and Alastair knows this is hurting him like nothing else. It's exactly what he needs. 

A handful of deep thrusts and Dean has finally gone completely silent except for a few broken shouts when Alastair pushes a couple fingers in alongside his cock. Dean has begun to tremble all over and Alastair takes it as a sign that Dean's given his control over completely. 

Satisfied, Alastair pumps in twice more then releases deep inside Dean. He lets go of the back of Dean's neck and looks down to see where they are connected.

Pulling out slowly, he watches a blurt of come seep out and mix with a little trickle of blood that is tracking from Dean's puffy, abused hole down the inside of his thigh. The sight sends a darkly heated coil of arousal straight through Alastair’s body and it takes all he has in him not to plow Dean's ass again. The smart-ass has learned his lesson. Hopefully. 

Alastair steps away, tucking his cock back in his pants, leaving Dean still bent over the table. Dean doesn't say another word as Alastair exits the room and that is exactly the result Alastair had been hoping for. 


End file.
